Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

I feel as though I'm auditioning for a part in a play. Or maybe it's a screen test for a movie. Over and over and over again. I'm under the impression that this is the plum role that I would be willing to give a kidney for the opportunity to inhabit. It's always me, but with a different guy dropping in to play opposite me. We're usually on location and without scripts, improvising a similar repartee with one another. The details change. So do the costumes and the setting. What remains the same every time is my relentless optimism. I am fearless and honest and relaxed. Well, mostly relaxed. I hope my hair is okay and that I haven't over-accessorized and that I don't have something unsightly stuck in my teeth. At first it doesn't seem possible that you are here with me, although I am open to what may transpire simply because you are here. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. So I trust you. You make this big play for me and the scene is over. You exit, never to be heard from again. And I'm left wondering if this role will ever be cast, if we'll ever proceed to rehearsals, if opening night will ever arrive. Like Mattie Ross, it seems that I am in need of a man with true grit.